


Of Something Softer

by Coffin Liqueur (HP_Lovecats)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Game: Resident Evil 4, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Resident Evil 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_Lovecats/pseuds/Coffin%20Liqueur
Summary: Leon's been having nightmares that Luis didn't make it out alive.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Luis Sera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	Of Something Softer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piinutbutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/gifts).



God _damn_ , the dreams just wouldn’t let up these nights.

Leon was mostly just agitated, at this point, that he couldn’t be sure what was setting them off.

After all… pffhuh. They didn’t give him… anything to be _afraid_ of anymore. The first couple times, yeah, they’d freaked him and and left him waking up with his heart hammering and breaths tearing at his throat and lungs and eyes searching to make sure that the room he’d woken up in was, in fact, the room he thought he’d fallen asleep in, but, well...

First of all, it wasn’t his first rodeo with nightmares. Of _course_ he’d had them after Raccoon City. Back then, he’d been a young man who’d figured he’d accepted with pride in his capacity to _be strong_ that he may have to do daunting things and bear witness to pain and suffering or awful fates befalling his friends, who still couldn’t have been prepared for anything that’d happened that night in a city suddenly mauling itself alive. Though he’d lived, what if he hadn’t, some of those dreams had thought to answer.

And second of all, he’d come out of this chain of events with comfort.

Not only did he now know that dreams are _just dreams_ whenever he had them… he _knew_ what else happened when he did.

With a mix of _embarrassment at himself_ and gratitude.

As he’d been informed, there came a point in the night where he just started hissing through his teeth. Squirming. Tossing and turning.

Waking Luis up.

...Pff.

Some kinda irony in that, huh?

Considering that these dreams always came down to all the ways that night could have gone far worse than it had.

There sure were dreams in which one of those damn Iron Maidens, having already weakened him with a needle-toothed bite to the shoulder and a slash to the leg, could have just pulled him into their spines and ended it there. Ones where he hadn’t been prepared enough for the attacks of the Novistadors, and in which the burn of their acid was amplified until he could think of no more.

But never in the dreams were that kind of thing the centerpiece.

He thought in them about things like if one of the monsters had killed Ashley, or what would have really ultimately happened if his parasite hadn’t gotten removed, and.

...This was the “highlight” of the dreams, especially lately, and he again didn’t damn know _why._

He thought of a reality in which he hadn’t called to Luis to _look out!_

And he saw him impaled on Saddler’s stinger - straight through.

Hoisted into the air, and then dropped, as all of Leon burned, looking at Saddler before he retreated with that sick, petrified dawning that he had lost everything.

...He only felt a little bit better whenever he woke up Luis with his stirrings.

Was a reminder that that wasn’t the world he was living in, after all. Good for some degree of an immediate cool-down.

Not perfect, though.

After all, Luis was right there. He probably had the right to an explanation. Leon, however, wasn’t too keen on the idea of going into detail. Somehow, he doubted Luis would care all that much - would know better than to think anything was his fault, or was “about” him. Still didn’t seem like a thing to foist on him - not like there was anything Luis could do about it, anyway, that neither of them was already doing. Luis did know he was having shitty dreams, in general. They both did, and both thought it was expected.

And so Leon just kinda had to stay feeling guilty with the knowledge in and of itself that there was some stuff he wasn’t saying.

Best case scenario was Leon waking up quietly - heading out to the balcony to sit in the cool air under the dark powder-indigo sky to think for a little bit. Then go back to bed, cooled off that kinda way and with his head cleared.

Sometimes, however, Luis still woke up.

This, also, made Leon feel somewhat guilty - for quietly ditching him, so to speak.

On the other hand, it was hard to mind this outcome so much when, outside of the face of immediate urgency, Luis was so good at being so damn chill. Without fail, Luis would be approaching, coming out from the shadow of the room, with a smile.

And Leon couldn’t help but smile. Wry, but not unappreciative.

“What a night, eh, _hermoso?_ ”

Leon would scoff. Still smiling, eyes half-lidding with some kind of a contenting resignation. Nod, turn a look back out over city lights. “Yeah. -- You sure could say that, couldn’t you.”

Luis would offer to go get the whiskey, or to share a cigarette. While Leon occasionally agreed to the former, this was although he consistently passed on the latter. There’d come to be a running joke about _playground pressure_ between them; for Luis, he realized it was simple habit, and Leon couldn’t be annoyed.

And with or without a pair of shot glasses dangled between his fingers, Luis would scoff a chuckle in kind - mumble warmly-yet-dryly, “More for me, then”.

Draw one cigarette to his mouth, produce a lighter from the pocket of his nightshirt, pop it with a hiss, light up, and join Leon out in the chair next to him.

Sharing the night air and relative quiet. Looking out at nothing. Talking about nothing. Trading quips and reminiscence about nothing. Till the night just felt like _a night_ , and they were just two typical people enjoying it together.

Sometimes, till the sky went from indigo to pale purple-pink.

...Guilt aside, this outcome was Leon’s favorite, he had to admit.

He had to admit, too, that it had him starting to figure why Luis not having come out of that night alive with him was such a… fixture of an idea in those nightmares, now; _that_ was irony.

If Luis _hadn’t_ , he would have been one hell of a precious “rock” to lose.

Before Leon could have ever even _had_ it.


End file.
